


Sugar Daddy

by xiusano (aarania)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Also known as the AU where Yuuri moonlights as a baker during his off-season from skating, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Hungry People Beware, M/M, My poor attempt at fluff and humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 11:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9069925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aarania/pseuds/xiusano
Summary: Yuuri is out of sugar. Fortunately, his hot Russian neighbor isn't.





	1. Sliding into DM's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "If you're going to antagonize me about naming an imaginary bakery you suddenly sprung on me, at least help me think of names!"
> 
> "Oh." The younger man perks up, struck by inspiration. With one hand skillfully swiping across his touchscreen, and a finger from his free hand suspended in the air hushing his baker friend's protests, Phichit rapidly taps the 'send' button on his phone, before flashing a triumphant grin. "And it is done."

_50 grams of sugar..._  Yuuri mutters, tapping his nose with a floured hand. Whipping himself around, he drags his step tool over with his foot and ascends the multi-tiered contraption, rustling through his cabinet for that bag of sugar he  _knows_ he tucked away, "somewhere".

When he isn't on the ice, Yuuri Katsuki enjoys baking. It's a hobby he picked up after Phichit suggested that binge eating wasn't doing much for his anxiety or athletic career. At first, baking seemed pointless--what's the purpose of wasting money on expensive utensils and ingredients? What was the purpose of wasting money on expensive utensils and ingredients to create perishable items? What was the purpose, if Yuuri couldn't eat anything he made?

It wasn't until Phichit snapped a picture of one of Yuuri's cakes and uploaded it on to social media. Within seconds, likes and comments flooded the Thai skater's Instagram feed, commenting on the craftsmanship and composition of the cake, as well as requests for the bakery's location and information. Upon realizing what had happened, Yuuri sunk even further into his anxiety, unable to grapple with the overwhelming support (and requests) from fans. 

"Look at it!" Phichit exclaimed, shoving his phone into Yuuri's face.

"I can see the cake, Phichit. It's nothing special--"

"No! Look at these likes and comments! 54,390 likes and 639 comments! Yuuri! They love your work! They love  _your_ baking!"

"A-Are you sure? Maybe it's just luck--"

"Hold on, let me start and Instagram page for you."

"Phichit! You don't have to--"

"Hold on, let me answer this DM." He begins typing a message. "Hey, what's your bakery's name?"

"What?"

"Some foodie wants to know the name of your bakery. So what is it?" Phichit teased, raising a brow. 

"I-uh, it's um... 'Casa Castella'?"

"Yuuri, you don't even know how to bake a castella cake!"

"How about Katsuki Kakes?"

"What are you, 15?"

"If you're going to antagonize me about naming an imaginary bakery you suddenly sprung on me, at least help me think of names!"

"Oh." The younger man perks up, struck by inspiration. With one hand skillfully swiping across his touchscreen, and a finger from his free hand suspended in the air hushing his baker friend's protests, Phichit rapidly taps the 'send' button on his phone, before flashing a triumphant grin. "And it is done."

Oh, the horror. Yuuri could feel his entrails escaping his body. "What? What!? OhmygodPhichit what did you say?" His heart was beating a mile a minute and could feel the anxiety wash over him as his best friend could only smile.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes. No. I mean, yes!"

" _Really_ now?"

"Phichit! Just tell me!"

Phichit lets out a hearty laugh and fans his phone coyly. "You, Yuuri Katsuki, are the proud owner of 'Sugar Daddy Confectionary. Or 'Sugar Daddy' for short. Get it? You're the 'Sugar Daddy' because you handle sugar when baking! I'm such a genius!"

Holding a hand to his chest, Yuuri slowly laid himself on to the hardwood flooring of his apartment, contemplating every single one of his life choices. Especially that one decision to let Phichit persuade him to take on baking. He wanted to hole himself into a sock drawer and sleep forever. 

"So, like, can I manage your Instagram page?"

 ---

Yuuri clicks his tongue in annoyance. "Am I really out of sugar?" he curses under his breath. Huffing, he makes way for his wallet, buried underneath the mountain of receipts crumpled carelessly on top of his counter. He pulls apart the leather folds only to find a crumpled dollar and loose change scattered along the fabric lining. 

 _This sure ain't enough for confectioner's sugar_ , he grumbled. Yuuri figured rather than spending money on what he needed he could make it himself. That's what the internet was for, right? Hastily typing 'diy powdered sugar' into the search engine, he turned and reached for his blender, only to stop halfway at the sudden realization that he  _did not_ have sugar whatsoever. 

Why me, he groaned. 

Yuuri wasn't that socially awkward--he considered himself to be much more socially anxious than anything. He could hold a conversation just fine, he just wouldn't be able to stop himself from sweating excessively or thinking that he was offending that person during the entirety of their exchange. 

 _I have neighbors, and that's what neighbors are for,_ he cheered himself on. He remembered watching movies as a child and recalled how people would go over to their neighbor's to borrow a cup of sugar. How hard could it be? All he has to do is step over to the apartment across the way, knock on said apartment's door across the way and ask for sugar. Simple as that. Slapping his cheeks, Yuuri snagged a measuring up from the counter and marched over to unit based across from his. 

_You can do this Yuuri. It's just sugar. Do it for the sugar!_

Inhaling a deep breath, he wraps his knuckles against the door twice before stepping back. His leg bounces anxiously and his fingers fiddle with the hem of his apron.  _His apron._ Oh Gods. Yuuri forgot that he had flour in his hair and on his face, not to mention his apron stained with who knows what. Oh, his neighbor was going to think he was some scientist freak asking for 'sugar'. _Oh god, what did he mean by 'sugar'. The sexual kind?_ _No, Yuuri,_  he reassured himself, _it's the short-chained, soluble carbohydrates used in baking._ _The short-chained--_

"Hi! Can I help you?"

"Soluble carbohy-hy- Hi." 

If Yuuri could put a face to his bakery's name, it would be the man standing directly in front of him. He was lean and lithe and his face,  _oh god his face,_  was most likely hand carved by the Gods themselves. Underneath his silvery bangs were bright, azure orbs staring curiously at the flushed, floury mess that was his neighbor. The taller man leans casually against the frame of his door, cocking his head as he blinks at Yuuri.

"I live across the hallway and was wondering if you had any sugar? I'm in the middle of baking macarons and ran out."

"Wait here, I'll be back!"

The man padded back into his apartment, and Yuuri was somewhat relieved his neighbor didn't question his appearance and that their interaction was less painful than he imagined. He smiled to himself at his accomplishment. It wasn't anything big, but with someone dealing with anxiety, striking a conversation with someone as fine as his neighbor was a start. Wait. 

Did Yuuri really just think that? That his neighbor was  _fine_?

"Here you go! Mr..."

"Yuuri. Please, call me Yuuri. And I appreciate the help, I just didn't expect an entire sack of sugar," Yuuri laughs quietly, accepting his neighbor's generous donation. "If there's anything I can do in return, please let me know!"

"You said you were baking macarons, yes? If that's the case then I would love to try some!"

"Of course! I'll bring you the first batch right out of the oven!"

"I look forward to it. I hope they're as sweet as the person making them," he grins and winks at an unsuspecting Yuuri, fumbling with the bag of sugar. "I'm Victor, by the way."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really hungry when I wrote this.


	2. Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You never mentioned having a hot Russian neighbor!"
> 
> "I didn't know I had a hot Russian neighbor! I spend so much time between the rink and traveling for competitions, that I wouldn’t even have known if a serial killer lived next door to me." Yuuri buries his face into a cushion. "Also I went to him covered in flour and God knows what else."

Yuuri clutches the sack of sugar against his chest and slumps down against his door, screaming internally while attempting to process everything that had occurred within the last 5 minutes. He couldn't believe it. His life is turning into a romantic comedy.

  
The synopsis of the film would go like this: _A 24-year-old, off-season ice skater extraordinaire with crippling anxiety, moonlights as a social media baking sensation under the salacious guise of “The Sugar Daddy”. One fateful morning, he runs out of sugar and seeks out the short-chained soluble carbohydrate from his incredibly attractive and incredibly enticing Russian neighbor._

  
What am I saying? Yuuri scoffs, getting to his feet. “Baking first, romance later!”

  
Setting the sugar down on to the counter, Yuuri pulls out his blender and begins grinding the granules into a powdery consistency. What kind of flavors would Victor like? Do Russians even have a palette for sweets? I can't believe he called me sweet?

  
The sound of Yuuri's phone pulled him out of his thoughts. Reaching for the device, he feels at ease when he sees 'Phichit' flash on the screen.

  
"Oh thank God!"

  
"Yuuri, I'm flattered!" Phichit jokes. "But you'll never guess what! The Russian ice dancer Anya wants you to make her wedding cake! Can you believe it?"

  
"Wait? Me? No one's ever tasted my creations aside from you and my landlords!"

  
"Can you image the headlines? Yuuri Katsuki, ice skating sensation turned star baker!"

  
"How did she get my information? I've seen her compete but I've never had an actual conversation with her!"

  
"Oh well...I kind of added a blurb about "DM-ing for inquiries!" Yuuri could hear the smile in Phichit's voice. "Aside from the dirty comments about escorting services, she sent a heartfelt message into the DM's gushing about the effort you put into everything you bake! She knows that you’ll be able to capture her love story! Oh by the way Yuuri, are you sharpening a chainsaw or something? There's a weird whirring noise in the background."

  
"Oh shit," Yuuri screams and slams his phone down, unplugging the blender's cord from the outlet. So much for the sugar. Sighing, he picks the phone back up. “How would she know that my ‘baking’ tells a story'? Pictures don't do actual pastries justice."

  
"Believe in yourself! What are you, the unreliable narrator of a romantic comedy?"

  
"Romantic-comedy, huh..." Yuuri fades out wistfully.

  
"Yuuri? I don't like that tone."

  
"What tone?"

  
"The I-have-something-on-my-mind-tone-but-I'm-going-to-play-it-off-like-it's-nothing-tone!"

  
"It really is nothing!"

  
"Yuuri." The baker hates it when Phichit uses that tone reserved for mothers when scolding their children. "Talk."

  
He sighs. "When you said that my life was similar to that of a romantic comedy, it got me thinking. I mean, I'm an ice skater by day and a baker by night. More like I'm a baker off season. And then I ran out of sugar and asked my godly Russian neighbor for some and I just sort of imploded from embarrassment. And now an international Russian ice dancer wants me to bake her wedding cake. This is all so surreal."

  
"You never mentioned having a hot Russian neighbor!"

  
"I didn't know I had a hot Russian neighbor! I spend so much time between the rink and traveling for competitions, that I wouldn’t even have known if a serial killer lived next door to me." Yuuri buries his face into a cushion. "Also I went to him covered in flour and God knows what else."

  
"Yuuri, that's so dirty!"

  
"Right!?”

  
“Were you expecting him to help you with cleaning? Is that how you greet your neighbors?”

  
“N-NO! That’s not what I meant!” Phichit was lucky that he was Phichit and Yuuri’s best friend. If it were anyone other than him, Yuuri would’ve hung up and blocked their number by now. The embarrassment would be too much for him.

  
“Have you gotten back to the Russian ice dancer?” He changes the topic. “When does she need the cake by? There’s a lot of time and research that goes into extravagant baking.”

  
“Uh, hello, that's why I'm God. You focus on the baking and leave the consulting to me!"

  
Yuuri lets out a chuckle. "Thanks Phichit. It really means a lot to me."

  
\---

  
As he waited for the macarons to finish rising, Yuuri popped open his laptop and began searching for flavors and compositions that screamed 'Russia'. There are rum cakes, why not a vodka cake? He looked up 'Russian desserts' and came across a plethora of images and recipes calling for the use of fruits, chocolates and nuts. He could work with these ingredients to develop a flavor profile befitting an ice dancer. All that was left was waiting for Phichit's call.

  
He heard a ping come from the kitchen and rushed towards the oven. Slipping on a mitt, he wiggled the baking sheet from the heat and place it on to the cooling mat, allowing for the cookies to cool. Grabbing his stand mixer, Yuuri added the butter and beat it until it it was fluffy. Taking a freshly grounded batch of powdered sugar, he then sifted the sugar into the butter and left the mixer on high for a minute. Dipping his finger into the mixture, he realized that something was missing once the filling touched his lips.

  
“I wonder if…”

  
Before he could finish his thought, Yuuri’s body went straight for his cupboard. Fishing through the cabinet, his eyes fell upon an unused bottle of honey. Yuuri recalls experimenting with a number of sugar substitutes when he first started baking in order to "cheat" on his diet. He still had bottles of agave nectar, honey, and maple syrup, but none of these could compare to the short-chained soluble carbohydrate everyone knows and loves. Grabbing the bottle of amber, he pours a generous amount into the filling and turns up the speed for a minute.  
Dolloping the buttercream into his piping bag, Yuuri begins piping thick, golden swirls on to each cookie before sandwiching the desserts together. Rummaging through his dish ware, he grabs an elongated, rectangular box and gingerly fills the box with as many cookies as possible before rushing off to his neighbor’s.

  
Flushed and covered in even more sugar, flour, and sweat, an exasperated Yuuri hastily knocks on Victor’s door, hoping that his neighbor would find comfort and joy in his pastries.

  
And then it hit him.

  
Victor was the first person, other than Phichit and his landlords, to taste his desserts. Panic set in and Yuuri could feel hear the macarons clinking against the sides of the box to the orchestrated mess of his fingers. What would he think? They only met 3 hours ago and Yuuri was positive that he didn’t leave the best first impression. What if he tasted the macarons out of consolation? What if—

  
“Yuuri! You’re back!” Victor beams, nearly tearing his door open and shaking the bespectacled man out of his thoughts.

  
“Victor! T-These are for you. Thank you again for the sugar. Thanks to you, I was able to finish my macarons!”

  
“Wow! They’re beautiful Yuuri! So unlike the ones I’ve seen elsewhere!” He pops one of the golden cookies into his mouth. Yuuri is literally on the edge of his toes, waiting anxiously for his response. He studies the shape of Victor’s lips. They're pink and plush, intoxicating almost, and Yuuri's eyes lingered on them longer than they should have.  

"Yuuri!" Victor stuffs another one into his mouth. "They're amazing!" He take a bit of another. "This is unlike anything I've ever tasted!"

Yuuri could feel the heat blooming against his cheeks. Someone other than Phichit and his landlords found his desserts edible. He let his hand rest over his chest and out a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you enjoyed them. I thought there was something lacking and so I added honey as a last minute ingredient to the buttercream."

"If your intentions were to seduce me with your baking, it's working," Victor locks eyes with Yuuri and runs his tongue over his lips. Yuuri's breath hitches in his throat, and without thinking, lets out what sounds like a cross between and squeal and a scream. "Yuuri?"

"I'm fine! Everything's okay! Well good night!" he announces, backtracking into his apartment. Yuuri closes the door and darts for his room, plopping himself face down into his pillow. He's come to a conclusion. He'll lay here and scream into his pillow for all of eternity. 

\---

In the midst of his screaming, the sound of a piece of paper slipping under Yuuri's door goes unnoticed.

" _Thank you again for the wonderful gift! I'm glad my sugar was put to good use! ;) By the way, your macarons_  reminded me of  _medovik, a layered honey cake. We call it the czar of Russian cakes. If you ever need a taste-tester, I'm only one step away! Good night Yuuri! --Victor"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel as if I should change the rating for future chapters due to all of the sexual innuendos haha. Also these are actual ingredients, recipes and pastries I've googled and pinterest as my knowledge of baking is pretty limited, albeit now I have all the time in the world to attempt more difficult pastries!
> 
> Also I feel as if the end of the chapters are somewhat rushed OTL


	3. Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ugh Yuuri, what are you thinking? You just met him, why are you so desperate to see him? No, no, you’re not here to see him, you're here for his help—
> 
> “Yuuri?”
> 
> The bespectacled man looks up and licks his lips. He opens his mouth, but quickly closes it, worried that his words would betray him.

_Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

Yuuri rolls over and unlocks his phone, propping it against his pillow as he lays his head over the receiver. "WHAT." 

"Anya contacted me and said that she'll be in town today and wants to run her ideas by you!"

"I thought you already took care of that." 

"Do I look like I'm capable of baking a 12 by 10 by 8 by 6, 4 tiered cake, with a blush, marbled watercolor fondant, accented with gold dusted flowers and a Swarovski, faberge egg topper? I don't even know what these things mean!" 

Yuuri pinches the bridge of his nose and groans into the receiver. Hearing all of the ice dancer's ideas only added to his anxiety. Was he prepared to move on from petit fours, éclairs, macarons, and strawberry shortcake? Despite his insecurities, he also felt a strange energy emanating from Phichit's words, urging him to piece together an unforgettable masterpiece. 

He sighs. "Your place. 5pm. I'll need time to prepare the cake samples." 

"My apartment? Yuuri, you're the baker! Your apartment is fine as is!" 

"YOUR PLACE. 5 O'CLOCK. This is compensation for waking me up!"

"It's 11:37 in the morning!" 

"Bye," Yuuri chirps, ending the call. He rolls on to his back and stairs at the vaulted ceiling. The overwhelming support from his followers and a gold-medalist was unfathomable. While some may argue baking as an effeminate pastime, it's done wonders for Yuuri’s anxiety by keeping his mind off the competition. He smiles to himself before springing out of bed.

Rounding the corner to his kitchen, a half folded sheet of paper catches his eye. He strides towards it and unfolds the note, blood immediately rushing to his ears as soon as his skim past the first few words of the letter.

_"Thank you again for the wonderful gift! I'm glad my sugar was put to good use! ;) By the way, your macarons reminded me of medovik, a layered honey cake. We call it the czar of Russian cakes. If you ever need a taste-tester, I'm only one step away! Good night Yuuri! --Victor"_

Yuuri feels his heartbeat accelerate at his neighbor’s thoughtfulness. Despite only having met Victor the day before, that man was already too much for his poor heart and blood pressure, but he could feel the genuine support from Victor’s words. Shoving the note into the pocket of his joggers, Yuuri throws on his apron and prepares for the day.

\---

Cocoa, cream, and rum. Raspberry, rose, and thyme. Honey and lavender. Yuuri _hoped_ that by staying true to a Russian dessert palate, he would be able to showcase his competency in both taste and presentation.

Seizing a piece of the cocoa cream rum, he pops the pastry sample into his mouth and savors it for a few seconds. It seemed just fine to him. There was enough sweetness from the cocoa and cream to neutralize the rum.

He reaches for the Raspberry rose and thyme sample. Again, the flavors seemed just fine, and Yuuri thought that it was genius of him to add rose syrup as a means of complementing Anya’s request for gold dusted roses in addition reducing the bitterness from the thyme. 

Finally, Yuuri makes way for the honey and lavender cake piece. Letting the sample melt against his tongue, he could taste the floral notes from the lavender mixing with the tanginess of the honey to create an aromatic experience.

Yuuri grimaces. They all seemed fine, but he needed a second opinion. He glances at the clock on his stove. 3:52 P.M. He curses to himself. Was he being too ambitious with his flavors? No, Yuuri _knows_ that his hard work would never betray him. But what if it did? What if Anya wanted something less…pronounced?

Running a hand through his hair, he reaches into his pocket for his phone and brushes against a sheet of paper? Frantically, he fishes the note from pocket and dashes for the door, his knuckles instinctively colliding with his neighbor’s in the process.  

 _Please, please please be home. I need you Victor._ He bounces in place, glancing down at his feet. Yuuri looks at his feet and brings heels together in hopes that by tapping them together, he would be able to distract himself from the hallway’s deafening silence and Victor’s lack of response.

 _Ugh Yuuri, what are you thinking?_ _You just met him, why are you so desperate to see him? No, no, you’re not here to see him, you're here for his help—_

“Yuuri?”

The bespectacled man looks up and licks his lips. He opens his mouth, but quickly closes it, worried that his words would betray him. He studies Victor’s expression. His eyes are encouraging and _vulnerable,_  urging Yuuri to find his words. He steadies himself.

“Victor, I...” He gulps. “I'm in a rush and...w-Would you like to, um…" Yuuri's runs his hand against his arm, hoping to rub away some of his anxiety. "Would you like to sample some of my n-new cake flavors?" 

Victor's expression softens. "I would love to."

Yuuri perks up, a smile spreading across his face. "I'll get them, please wait!" 

Spinning on his heel, he beelines for the kitchen, lifting his tray of assorted cake samples. Within seconds, he finds himself standing face to face with a beaming Victor, who ushers Yuuri into his home. 

"Yuuri, you really do know a way into a man's heart!" He leans into the counter and rests his chin against the palm of his hand. "At this rate you're going to make me fall in love with you."

Yuuri shoots him an incredulous look. "You can't fall in love with someone you just met." He sets the tray on to Victor's marble counter, ignoring the older man's pouting.

Each of the samples are laid out in a row, cut neatly into rounded pieces and topped off with a dollop of frosting. Yuuri points to the chocolate cake with the cream colored frosting. "This is a rum infused cocoa cake with a vanilla buttercream frosting. I was inspired by the flavors of ptichye moloko...hopefully the flavors stay true to the actual dessert." He points to the sample in the center. 

"This is a Raspberry and thyme cake with a rose syrup buttercream. I know that Russians incorporate a lot of fruit into their desserts and so I wanted to capture that with this recipe. Also I was inspired by the flavors and colors of zefir."

"Finally," Yuuri smiles and points to the last sample. "A honey cake with lavender frosting." He fishes around in his pocket for Victor's note and waves it between his fingers. "I wanted to preserve the integrity of the cake by keeping it simple, but chose clover honey for its slightly minty profile. After reading your note, I had to make sure the textures and flavors stayed true to that of a traditional medovik cake. It is a cake fit for a czar after all."

Yuuri clears his throat. "N-Not that I'm saying you're a king or anything." He can feel a blush creeping across his face and brings his hands up to cover his cheeks.

Victor chuckles and reaches for the honey cake, admiring the texture and composition of the dessert. "I'm glad you recognize a king when you see one." He brings the cake to his lips, indulging in the fluffy texture before taking the first bite.

He then takes another.

Followed by another.

Before devouring the cake with such urgency that Yuuri swears Victor must have been a stray in his previous life _._  

His eyes widen when he realizes that the cake is practically melting against his tongue with a certain floral sugariness reminding him of something he had been lacking. What was that something? Licking his lips, Victor grabs a napkin and dabs at his lips, embarrassed at the boorishness he presented during the tasting. 

"W-What do you think?"

Victor can't help but notice Yuuri bouncing anxiously in place, his eyes filled with exuberance like a child being handed a new toy. He brings his finger to his lips, racking his brain for the right words.  _Exciting?_

_Splendid?_

_Magnificent?_

"Ah! I know!" He exclaims, holding up a finger. Yuuri widens his eyes and sucks in a breath, bracing himself for the impact.

When it comes to ice skating, Yuuri could care less about what others thought--it was a part of the job, and he was accustomed to getting yelled at on the ice. But Victor. Victor was different. Yuuri is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and he just met the man. He feels like a hypocrite. He just met this man and tells said man that it's impossible to fall in love with someone he just met; yet he feels incredibly attracted to him, and his perfect hair, and heart shaped lips, piercing blue eyes, and--

"Orgasmic." 

What. 

"It was incredibly orgasmic."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really know where I was going with this chapter, and the original post was SUPER LONG, so I split it between this chapter and the next.


End file.
